


The Shaman Council: Adventures in Babysitting

by blackmountainbones, BobSkeleton



Series: Alien Baby [2]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Date, M/M, Tony Harrison is the problematic favorite who’s never done anything wrong, baby endangerment but no actual baby harm, but do they REALLY shag, don’t trust the Shaman with your children, magic carpet mishaps, new parent smut, shut up with your existentialist crap tommy nooka, they shag, we’ve got boners to rub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobSkeleton/pseuds/BobSkeleton
Summary: Vince and Howard decide to go on a date--their first proper date ever. Considering they’ve got a six-month old half-alien baby at home, they have to hire a babysitter for the night. When the Shaman Council finds out that Vince and Howard have hired a complete stranger to mind their goddaughter, they decide to take matters into their own hands.
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Series: Alien Baby [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584055
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	The Shaman Council: Adventures in Babysitting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladadee195](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladadee195/gifts).



> This fic is a gift to our darling Ladadee195. Her birthday was weeks ago and we are both terrible with time, so it’s sort of a miracle we got it out before New Year. Anyway, we’re sorry for the delay, and happiest of birthdays, darling! 
> 
> Thanks as always to A_Little_Boosh_Maid, without whom this story would be way worse, mostly due to the author's inability to properly speak British no matter how many times the correct words are hammered into our heads.

“I still don’t understand why Bollo and me can’t babysit,” Naboo grumbled. He was not keen on having strangers in the apartment, due to the copious amounts of drugs he stored in it.

“For the last time, Naboo, you have a drug problem and your ape has a history of violence,” Howard groaned. 

“Remember Chinquo?” Vince added in a low voice, careful not to wake the baby napping in his arms.

Bollo narrowed his eyes. That bastard Chinquo...

“In short,” Howard said, “we’re hiring a  _ proper  _ babysitter. One with qualifications: CPR, baby first aid, etc.” 

“The only problem I have with drugs is that Kirk owes me two kilos of MDMA,” Naboo protested. Naboo most certainly did not have a  _ drug  _ problem--everyone else had a  _ sobriety _ problem, if you asked him.

“That’s what I mean,” replied Howard. “Clearly, you’re not capable of caring for a human baby on your own.”

_ Especially _ that bell-end Howard. Ever since he’d gotten pregnant and had to abstain from drugs and alcohol. Now he was breast-feeding and  _ still _ couldn’t drink and had gotten all  _ sanctimonious _ . But Naboo could see the way he looked at a pint of bitters... 

He was about to say so when Vince interjected. “‘Course,” said Vince, in an attempt to keep the peace, “we do really appreciate it when you watch her for a few minutes here and there. You’re a diamond, Naboo.” 

“Piss off,” replied Naboo. “I’m not even turning my back on you. Come on, Bollo.” 

He and Bollo disappeared up the stairs, leaving Howard and Vince and the sleeping Cassie to go through their paperwork without them.

Vince watched the eleventh sensibly-dressed young lady--girl, really--leave the store. Holding a sleeping Cassie against his shoulder, he let his head drop heavily to his chest and let out a fake snore. He was so bored he felt like his eyes were melting out of his head. 

Howard happily stacked papers full of notes and addressed him cheerfully. “That went rather well. I think we have a decent pool of candidates to choose from.”   


“Howard,” Vince whine-whispered. “They’re  _ babysitters,  _ not the next Prime Minister. They all seem like good kids, and we’ll only be gone a couple of hours.”

Howard shot him a look of shock and disgust. “This isn’t  _ just  _ a babysitter, Vince. This person, this complete stranger we are asking into our home, will be watching  _ Cassie. _ Our  _ daughter.  _ We can’t be too careful, no sir, not in today’s world--”

“Naboo and Bollo will be here, too,” interrupted Vince, still trying to keep his voice low. “If anything starts to go horribly wrong, Cassie has her magic uncle and his gorilla bodyguard to protect her. And besides, we aren’t going far. Just dinner and a movie.” 

Howard halted. “Ah, yes. About that...”

“Howard.” Vince used the name like a threat, knowing this was going in a direction he would not like. 

“Well, it’s just, erm… modern movies are so… that is to say, cinematic masterpieces aren’t exactly--”

“What have you done, Howard.” Vince didn’t even bother making a question of it. Somehow he managed to make the statement sound like a threat.

“I got us tickets to the theater instead,” Howard mumbled, the words piling on top of each other in his haste to get them out.

Vince stood and threw his head back dramatically, and Howard was secretly pleased that the sleeping baby on his shoulder was preventing him from whining out loud. “Howaaaarrrrd,” he whispered. “We was s’posed to be having a romantic night out! There’s nothing romantic about watching geezers on stage trouncing around in tights and talking to skulls or whatever!” 

“I think you’ll find--”

Vince was pouting and tapping his foot. “It’s our  _ first date,  _ Howard! Our first time out in almost six months since Cassie was born-- _ before _ she was born, even--and we’re going to the stuffy old  _ theater _ ?” Vince was getting more and more worked up, and it was taking more effort for him not to wake the sleeping baby. “Why not take me out to a jazz club and watch my skin erupt, Howard, that’d be just as entertaining. I can’t believe--”

“Vince!” Howard said, determined to interrupt Vince before he could work up to a full-blown strop. “It’s  _ The Jungle Book!”  _ At that, Vince stopped his own whispered Shakespearean performance and met Howard’s eyes. 

Vince froze, mid foot-tap. “It’s what?”

“ _ The Jungle Book,  _ adapted for the stage. I thought you’d like the costumes, and the story, it’s one of your favorites. And Kipling was an English literary genius in his own right, sir. I figured there’d be something of interest for both--”

Before Howard could finish, Vince was already launching himself into a hug, clinging to Howard like a one-armed octopus. “M’sorry Howard, you were right--sounds better’n the movies--”

“It’s OK,” Howard said, stroking Vince’s hair and thrilling when the touch made Vince nuzzle into his shoulder. “You’re forgiven.”

“And I forgive you for changin’ our plans without asking me first,” Vince mumbled, only a pinch of salt flavoring his words.

“Anyway,” Howard said, “want to help me review the assessments for the sitters?”

“Hire the one with the yellow Doc Martens, those were well cool.” 

Howard sighed but shuffled through the stack of papers to find--what was her name? Melissa? Melinda?... no, Miranda--all the same, just to humor his partner. “Vince, we’re parents now. We can’t just choose our babysitters based on fashion alone... Oh.” He stopped short. Miranda had scored very highly on the 24-question quiz, and had recently updated her certifications in first aid and CPR, in addition to majoring in early childhood education... “Hmm, Miranda is a fine choice, indeed!”

“Knew it,” Vince said. “Could tell by her shoes she was the one.”

Howard sighed, though he had to admit that Vince’s intuition was right more often than not. He slung an arm around his partner, who was still holding their sleeping daughter, and bussed a kiss to each of their foreheads. Vince let out a contented sigh, and Cassie followed Vince’s example, making Howard’s face break out into a smile and his insides go all squidgy.

Cassie was six months old, and Howard still couldn’t believe that he had a family of his very own. “Man and wife and alien,” he murmured to himself, voice full of fondness.

“Hmmm?” Vince asked. His eyes were shut, and he looked like he was already half-asleep. Like many new parents, Vince had become adept at grabbing sleep whenever he could, mostly when Cassie was sleeping, too.

Howard shook his head gently. “Nothing, little man. What say you we put Cassie in her cot, and head to bed ourselves?”

Vince smiled, his eyes clear and blue and sparkling with mischief, all sleepiness gone. “Awww,  _ Howard _ ...” he teased.

Howard almost protested that he’d just meant for a nap, but when Vince slid a cheeky hand up his thigh to grope between his legs, Howard changed his mind. He stood, nudging Vince with his hip. “C’mon, you,” Howard whispered, his voice already gone hoarse with lust, and Vince scrambled to follow him upstairs.

Yes, Howard thought, it hadn’t always been the case, but it was pretty good to be Howard Moon.

By the night of his date with Vince, however, Howard was a wreck. He was pacing and muttering to himself, clutching Cassie to his chest with a white-knuckled grip. For six months, he had rarely been separated from his daughter for more than a few minutes at a time, and it was safe to say that he wasn’t taking it very well at all.

Vince, who had learned to be patient with Howard’s moods over the years, was starting to run out of patience. “Look, Howard, it’s just for a couple of hours,” he reasoned. “We’ll only be a couple of miles away, and we’ll both have our mobiles. Plus, Naboo will be here to keep an eye on the sitter.... Cassie will be just fine!” He tried to reach for his daughter, who looked a bit uncomfortable, being squished by Howard’s embrace, but Howard shrugged him off.

Vince cringed as Howard opened his mouth to let loose another torrent of anxious doom-saying, but he was saved by the bell. Literally--the doorbell rang before Howard could say a word, and Vince bounded down the stairs to greet Miranda while Howard worked out his separation anxiety.

“All right,” greeted Vince brightly as he opened the door. Miranda smiled back politely, thankfully shoving the wad of chewing gum in her mouth into her cheek and out of the way. 

“Wotcher,” she said, as Vince opened up and let her in. 

“You didn’t have any trouble finding the place?” asked Vince politely, even though she had been there before for the interview. 

“Nope, just fine,” she answered, taking in the shop. “This is the coolest shop. I’m totally bringing my mum someday. She’d love it,” Miranda told Vince. 

“Your shoes are genius,” he replied with a smile, nodding towards the yellow combat boots. 

“Cheers,” she replied politely. They made their way up the stairs as Vince started explaining the basics of Cassie’s routine. As soon as they entered the flat, Howard held Cassie even closer and greeted Miranda coldly, as though  _ he  _ hadn’t been the one to invite and pay her to watch their child. 

Miranda’s eyes widened as she got her first glimpse at baby Cassie’s. During the interview, her fathers had warned the potential sitter that their little girl had a genetic disorder which affected her skin and appearance, but her fathers had been vague on the details, so Miranda hadn’t known what to expect. She’d envisioned something more Elephant Man or one of those harlequin babies, but Cassie looked mostly like a normal baby, except her skin was a pale, luminous purple, the tufts of curly hair sprouting from her scalp were dark green, and her eyes were completely black.

Vince chattered on brightly as Miranda stared, trying to cut through the tension so they could finally  _ leave.  _ “Now, we’ll be at the Satin Satsuma Theatre and then, after the show, at the restaurant Faisons L’Andouille. If for some reason you can’t reach us by mobile, the phone numbers for both are on the fridge.”

The girl snapped her gum and nodded. “Emergency contact and all that are there too?”

A lisped “ _ I’m _ the emergency contact” sounded from the doorway of the nursery.

Vince, Howard, and Miranda turned to face the source of the voice. Naboo was standing in the hallway, just beyond the door, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Oh, hello, Naboo,” Howard stammered. “This is Miranda--”

“Our sitter for the night,” Vince interrupted, flashing a wide smile at Naboo, who only glared in response. “Miranda, this is Naboo, Cassie’s godfather...”

Miranda lifted a hand to wave a greeting at the small, strangely dressed man glowering in the hallway. “I like your turban. Well cool.”

The small man in the robes and turban stared at her, his dark eyes suspiciously small and bright. He gestured grandly, the sleeves of his robe billowing dramatically as he stared Miranda down. Meanwhile, Miranda stood gawping at the doorway, looking not a little disturbed by her encounter with the 406-year-old alien shaman.

“Well, that’s just Naboo. Don’t mind him,” Vince said. “He’s mostly harmless.” The forced laugh he added to the end of that sentence did not seem to ease Miranda’s apprehension.

“He lives in the attic. Owns the flat, and hangs around sometimes,” Howard said carefully. “If you hear any loud noises from upstairs, just ignore them.”

Miranda looked thoughtful. 

“Naboo’s a shaman,” Vince explained, sensing her confusion. 

“A... shaman?” Miranda asked, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Like, he can talk with the dead?”

Vince shook his head. “Don’t you get involved with that. You’ll regret it. Just concentrate on the baby, that’s a good lass.” He motioned at Howard to pass Cassie to Miranda, but Howard only clutched his daughter more closely. 

“Okay,” Miranda said, her brows knitting together in worry. The tall, shambly-looking man seemed reluctant to have her handle his daughter, and that weird, short, turbaned man was still staring at her menacingly. She could already tell it was going to be a long night. 

Vince, noticing her worried expression, turned to Howard and whispered, “Give her Cassie.” 

Howard turned away again, shielding Cassie from Vince. He  _ knew  _ he was being ridiculous, but now that the moment had come, he found he couldn’t just hand her over. “ _ Howard,”  _ Vince commanded through clenched teeth. Howard heaved a dramatic sigh, pressed a kiss to Cassie’s green curls as though he’d never see her again, and handed her over to her papa, turning away again to hide the tears in his eyes.

Vince gave Miranda an encouraging smile as he handed her the smiling Cassie. Cassie, for her part, did not seem at all troubled. She immediately began babbling and yanking on Miranda’s brightly-colored hair. 

“Look, you two’re getting on already,” Vince said.

“If anything happens, you know where to find us,” Howard said gruffly through the tears in his throat.

With that, Vince led a reluctant Howard out of the nursery, and then out of the flat so they wouldn’t be late for the play. Howard looked over his shoulder the whole time, a forlorn expression on his face.

Miranda watched them go. Strangely enough, the weird short guy--the shaman--was nowhere to be seen.

Weird.

But before she could suss out what, exactly, was so weird about the whole situation, the baby in her arms started to fuss. “Well, little one,” she said, rocking the fussing baby gently, “looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

With that, Cassie opened her mouth and let out a full-blown wail.

Meanwhile, Naboo was lying upside-down on his bed, complaining into his intergalactic sat-phone between huffs of hookah. “Look, Saboo, they told me I had a  _ drug problem _ , can you believe it? Insisted that I was an unfit caretaker for Cassie....”

“Well,” Dennis said, “you  _ did _ get drunk and gamble Bollo away that one time...”

“I don’t see how  _ that’s _ relevant to the situation,” Naboo huffed. “And after everything I’ve done for them, too! Do you think it was easy to deliver an alien baby or being an obstetrician for a pregnant man?”

“You weren’t the  _ only  _ one there in The Crunch, Naboo,” Saboo chimed in.

“That’s right,” came Tony Harrison’s voice. “It was--”

“ _ You  _ were useless,” spat Saboo.

Naboo continued on before a full-on argument ensued. “Oh, and here’s the best part: Howard made all the applicants take  _ a test. _ ”

“Sensible,” Dennis chimed in. 

“What, like a drugs test?” asked Saboo. 

“No, a test on their knowledge of children or some bullshit,” answered Naboo. 

“A child test?” Tony Harrison keened on the other end of the line. “Oh my  _ word!”  _

“That’s just like Howard,” spat Saboo venomously. 

“‘Unfit caregiver,’ my left foot,” said Naboo, his brows furrowing. 

“Bollo practically raise Vince,” growled Bollo, and even though everyone knew this was not true, they all chimed their agreement in solidarity with the gorilla. 

“We could do a better job than some wench off the street,” lisped Naboo. 

“Why not?” asked Tony Harrison’s nasal voice. “Why shouldn’t we have the chance?”

“It is due to us and our support of the Uranus-Earth Breeding Program that this child exists,” added Saboo. 

“ _ Ad idem _ ,” intoned Tony Harrison, once again spewing legalese nonsensically. After the success of his negotiations with the Uranians, he was more convinced than ever of the superiority of his lawyering skills. No amount of groaning nor eye-rolling from his fellow shaman could convince him otherwise.

The conversation was halted as it was pierced by a sharp wail from downstairs. 

“What in all the multiverse was  _ that _ ?” asked Saboo. 

“The baby’s crying!” yelled Tony Harrison, a note of panic in his voice. 

“They do that,” said Naboo, but nobody listened. An uproar sounded on the other end of the phone as the Shaman rushed to defend baby Cassie against the  _ clearly _ incompetant human sitter who was causing her to cry so loudly.

At last Dennis cut through the racket. “It is decided, Naboo. In the interest of protecting our investment in the Earth-Uranus breeding program, we shall come to your place and assist you in watching the asset for the night.” 

“Awright,” said Naboo, sitting up on the bed with a strength of purpose he rarely (due to the massive amounts of weed he smoked) felt. “Get your no-good Shaman arses over here quick smart. We need to depose the sitter.” 

“Can I take the body?” asked Kirk. The question was terrifying in his clear childlike voice. 

“Kirk, no,” said Dennis placatingly. “He said  _ depose,  _ not  _ dispose.  _ We will simply remove her, make her leave. We can’t murder an innocent human.” 

A small chorus of complaints went up, but the Shaman left the room, effectively ending the call. “Be there soon,” finished Saboo, as he hung up. 

“Bollo, we have to get ready to take care of Cassie,” said Naboo, righting his turban. 

“Right,” said Bollo. “Bollo go start hookah.” 

Naboo nodded. He did, after all, do his best thinking when stoned out of his mind. And if he were to going to successful get rid of the sitter, he would need to be very stoned indeed.

Miranda rocked Cassie back and forth as she paced the flat, showing her sights outside the window to get her to calm down. Babies usually cried once their parents left--that was normal--and her parents  _ had _ mentioned that tonight would be the first time Cassie would be in the care of someone besides her parents and the weird guy they’d called a shaman.

It took quite a while, but Cassie’s cries eventually subsided after Miranda had fed and burped her, then sat her on the floor of the living room amid her plush toys and building blocks. She soothingly stroked the baby’s green curls with mixed curiosity and admiration. Cassie certainly  _ was  _ an odd looking baby. Not ugly, just... different. 

Aside from her looks, however, Cassie Noir-Moon seemed like a normal, curious six-month-old, though there was something unsettling about her appearance. Miranda was trying to remember what that could be, but then Cassie would do something mischievous like try to eat her stuffed llama, and Miranda would have to intervene.

She was casually flipping channels in between playing with the baby and hoping that the weird turban-wearing landlord wasn’t a pervert, when the X-Files theme song filled the small living room. Miranda’s first thought was,  _ Yes! Love this show, haven’t seen it in ages _ , but as images of UFO’s flitted across the screen in time to the eerie music, an unsettled feeling began worming its way through her guts. She glanced over at the baby, who had stopped chewing on her blocks in favor of pointing at the TV. As the words, “The truth is out there,” flashed across the screen, the baby said, “Lollo!” 

Realization spilled over Miranda like someone had dumped it from a bucket. Cassie didn’t have a genetic problem--she was an  _ alien.  _

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a knock sounded from the window. Miranda gasped in fright. She was on the second floor, who could be knocking on the window? Her first instinct was to grab the baby, but then she remembered it wasn’t a  _ human  _ baby and felt less inclined to protect it. 

The sound of something tromping down the steps sounded overhead, and Miranda wondered if the paedo-uncle (or whoever the turbaned man was) was arriving on the scene.

She stood still in the living room, wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into, when the window opened and a black-feathered hat filled the opening. 

Miranda did the only thing she could think of--she screamed.

“Stop that ungodly noise, you little tramp,” said the man crawling through the window. Miranda turned and rushed to the kitchen for her mobile, but an  _ honest-to-God gorilla  _ stood in her way. 

The baby clapped her chubby hands and kept singing “Lollo! Lollo!” over and over again. 

The man in black had caught up to Miranda and reached around the gorilla, grabbing her mobile. Then the gorilla  _ spoke.  _

“Saboo.” Miranda felt her head grow light.

“Bollo,” greeted the man in black, casually, as if he talked to a gorilla everyday, before turning to address the terrified Miranda. “Right. You’re having a nightmare.” 

“I--I’m the babysitter,” she said pathetically. 

A reedy voice came from a bag slung over the man in black’s shoulder. “Not anymore, shiny-shoes! We’re the godfathers and we’re here now, so you can skip off home, there’s a good girl.”

Miranda looked more closely and realized the bag was a papoose of some kind and inside was… she wasn’t sure  _ what  _ it was, but it was a pink head and it was talking to her. She felt ill. The man in black wearing the head-in-a-bag handed her her phone and a twenty pound note. 

“Go get yourself something nice and forget any of this ever happened,” he commanded, his voice full of authority. 

Head swimming, Miranda followed his advice. Vaguely she thought of the police, but what would she say? If this was a dream, which seemed more and more likely, surely she’d need to get home so she could wake up safely in her own bed... 

As soon as Miranda had staggered down the steps and out of the Nabootique, Saboo said, “Right then,” clapping his hands together in a way that made his sleeves swing dramatically. “Where’s Cassie?”

“Put me down, you absolute gazebo, she needs to speak to someone on her own level!” Tony Harrison keened from the papoose. 

Bollo had already picked up Cassie and was carrying her one-armed as any good gorilla parent should. She poked at his arm and kept burbling, “Lollo.” 

“Bollo here now,” he said to her. 

“Lollo,” replied Cassie. 

“Close enough,” the gorilla replied. 

“Hello, sunshine!” Tony Harrison greeted, his smile alarmingly large. 

Cassie shrieked in excitement and clapped, screaming “Nee-sun!” 

“That’s right, clever little lass! To-ny Har-ri-son!” he said, enunciating each syllable and looking pleased as punch that the baby knew him by name. 

“Right, and who am I?” asked Saboo, not altering his voice or smiling at all.

“Boo,” replied Cassie. Saboo shook his head in disappointment. 

Saboo gazed down at the young babe, not without affection. “Once again, your human genes hinder you. I’m  _ Saboo,  _ you live with  _ Naboo,  _ we can’t both be ‘Boo.’” 

Cassie stared at him with black eyes and confirmed her earlier sentiment. “Boo.” 

“You feeble-minded--” Saboo began, but Naboo was quick to cut him off.

“That’s my goddaughter!” Naboo shouted. “You can’t insult her like that! She didn’t choose her parents!”

“If you speak to younglings like that, they grow up with self-esteem issues and a myriad of other problems,” added Denis sanctimoniously. “Take Kirk, for instance.”

“Yeah,” Kirk agreed. “My parents always said I had the mind of a child. Joke’s on them--I’ve got the  _ body _ of a child--”

“And the mind of a perverted serial-killing adult,” Saboo finished.

“So you see why such language is inappropriate for addressing young, innocent babes such as Cassie, then,” Dennis said self-importantly.

The shaman looked down to see Cassie chewing on one of Tony Harrison’s tentacles.

“Oh my God,” Naboo breathed, “it’s too late. She’s already starting down the path to perversion, and she’s not even one Earth year old!” He launched himself at Saboo, who was, due to his superior height and arm length, able to evade Naboo’s kicks and punches.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Dennis said in a pompous attempt to get the two shaman to stop fighting, “remember what we’re here for--to provide stable and positive role models for the impressionable child.” When this failed to garner the desired response (which was to make Naboo and Saboo stop hitting each other), Dennis dropped his voice conspiratorially. “If you two insist on fighting all night,  _ Tony Harrison _ is going to be shouldering the responsibility of caring for Cassie...”

The two shaman immediately ceased trying to attack each other, frozen in horror at the idea that Tony Harrison, the tentacled testicle with a poppers habit, could become Cassie’s primary caretaker for the evening.

“Aww, I don’t see what the fuss is,” said Tony Harrison through a wide grin. “I washed up before we came. I am clean as a whistle and sharp as a thistle! Besides, I think the earth-child is showing great intelligence in her preference for me over you elbow-munching liverworts.” 

Cassie gummed appreciatively on Tony Harrison’s tentacle, grinning toothlessly. A puddle of drool pooled on the floor while Tony Harrison beamed and the rest of the Shaman Council, Kirk included, grimaced with disgust. 

Meanwhile, Vince and Howard were busy searching for their seats in the crowded theater. Howard had done a good job getting them a spot in the front and near the center. Vince would never admit it aloud, but he was  _ excited.  _ He hadn’t had a reason to get dressed up and go out in… well, since Cassie had been born. Granted, Vince dressed up every day just because he had an  _ image  _ to maintain, but this was different. He was out, seeing people and being seen, with Howard on his arm, and he thrilled at the entire scenario. 

Howard had tried his best to get dressed for the occasion, which meant he looked a complete shambles, but Vince loved him even more for it. He settled down into the plush, velveteen seats, and snuggled into Howard’s side.

The lights were dim, and the room was warm. Howard was only halfway through his ginger ale when he found himself beginning to nod off. 

Really, no one would notice if he took a quick sleepy...

While Howard closed his eyes, Vince sipped at his Flirtini and watched the stage. As the first act of the play faded to black, he chanced a glance over at Howard.

Howard was slumped in the seat next to him, his chin on his chest, his eyes closed, snoring softly: dead asleep.

He looked so peaceful Vince couldn’t find it in him to wake Howard up. Really, the last six months had been  _ exhausting _ \--as much as Vince had looked forward to having a baby daughter, nothing could possibly have prepared him for the reality of three AM feedings and midnight nappy changes. If Howard needed a bit of a nap, well, Vince wouldn’t begrudge him that. 

He watched Howard sleep for a while. The slow rise and fall of his chest and his soft, soothing snores made Vince’s eyes grow heavy. He figured he could just lay his head on Howard’s shoulder and rest his eyes ‘til the second act started. Really, between the sleepless nights, constant feedings, endless nappy changes, and busy days, it was no wonder they were both exhausted. Having some time away… it was what they both needed. Vince’s heavy eyes fell shut.  _ Just for a minute or two,  _ he thought to himself.

The music swelled, but Vince’s eyes remained shut. And so, the second act began, but the two exhausted new fathers in the fifth row slept on. 

“Spawn,” commanded Saboo, who held a volume of Tolstoy on his lap as he attempted to beckon Cassie from where she was playing with Tony Harrison on the carpet. “Come hear the literature of your people.” 

“Aw, Saboo, you slag,” admonished Tony Harrison, “she’s just a nipper! She doesn’t want to read  _ War & Peace,  _ and neither does any other right-thinking being.” 

“ _ What  _ is your beef with Tolstoy?” Saboo griped back.

“I’ll tell you,” replied Tony Harrison, retrieving a tentacle from Cassie who was teething on it. “He’s an arsemongering pillock masquerading as a literary genius!” 

Saboo looked personally affronted. “How  _ dare  _ you, this planet has at most three decent authors, and this,” he lifted the sizable tome, “is one of them. That…  _ child  _ needs to learn what of her earth culture is worthwhile. Heaven knows it isn’t much.” 

“She can’t do Tolstoy,” insisted Tony Harrison. “She’s still growing in her teeth! How’s she supposed to really bite into literature when she’s only got gums?” As though agreeing with him, Cassie grabbed a tentacle and put it back into her mouth, happily gumming on Tony-the-higher-being-Harrison. 

“Both of you, shut up,” lisped Naboo from the kitchen. “She’s going to have a bottle then go to bed.”

“It’s only after seven!” whined Tony Harrison.

“Babies need lots of sleep,” replied Naboo, glancing over his shoulder where Bollo was checking the temperature of the bottle. When it was just right, he grabbed Cassie again and cradled her in one big, hairy arm while administering the bottle with the other. 

“They don’t know you killed that child, do they?” asked Saboo. 

“No, and Bollo never tell them,” Bollo replied. All the shaman nodded their agreement, never to speak of the incident again. Some things, you just couldn’t trust humans to understand.

Bollo spent the next several minutes feeding and burping Cassie, while the Shaman argued over who was going to change her and who was responsible for her bedtime stories. 

Naboo was tasked with putting Cassie in her pyjamas, while by unanimous agreement, it was decided that Dennis would be on nappy duty all night.

Saboo felt vindicated when he won the task of bedtime story. Storytelling was a time-honored Shamanic tradition, and he was certain no other member of the Council could match his storytelling prowess.

Nobody trusted Kirk with anything, which was just as well, considering that Kirk was a sexually depraved madman and a vehicular menace. 

Saboo sat on the black and white sofa while Dennis, Tony Harrison, Naboo, and Bollo sat on the floor with Cassie. They took turns passing her around (or setting her beside Tony Harrison, whence she proceeded to teethe on his tentacles) as Saboo began. 

“Once upon a time, in a fetid pond on this stinking planet there was a tadpole who fell in love with a caterpillar. This was in itself very stupid, but even moreso because they could talk. Because this is a children’s story.” 

The Shaman seated on the carpet nodded, and Cassie listened in wide-eyed wonder. 

“The caterpillar promised to always love the tadpole, and the tadpole reciprocated, and they each made ridiculous promises and proclamations, promising to always cherish each other and never change. They did, of course, change due to the earthly metamorphosizing nature of their beings. One day, the caterpillar fell asleep inside a cocoon. When it emerged, its first thoughts were of its beloved tadpole. It asked all the other puerile creatures at the pond if they’d seen a tadpole and they hadn’t, because again, they were idiots who didn’t realize the giant bullfrog  _ was  _ the tadpole in a more advanced state, but I digress. Eventually, the butterfly flew over to the bullfrog, and asked sweetly, ‘Excuse me, but I’m looking for my friend. Have you seen--’”

Here, Saboo mimicked a “gulping” noise. The other Shaman gasped aloud, enthralled by his dramatic retelling. 

“The frog devoured the butterfly, as they are wont to do. The end.” Saboo finished, looking pleased with himself.

Dennis fought back tears and Tony Harrison expressed his outrage, covering Cassie’s ears with his tentacles even though it was technically too late to protect her from hearing this unsatisfactory ending. 

“This not good story for Cassie,” concluded Bollo. 

“It is the  _ perfect  _ story for Cassie,” retorted Saboo. “The moral of the story is that you will inadvertently destroy everything you love because it is in your nature to do so. The sooner she realizes this, the better.” 

“Oi, you only say that because you’re a bitter bastard who’s never experienced the power of true love!” Tony Harrison insisted. “Besides, Cassie knows she can count on us, her fairy godfathers!”

“I am  _ not _ a fairy  _ anything, _ you pink knob,” Saboo retorted.

Cassie burbled happily, playing with Tony Harrison’s tentacles and not paying any mind to the argument ensuing around her. At last, Bollo interrupted with, “Cassie smell. Dennis need to change her.” 

“And why should  _ I  _ have to change her again?” Dennis asked indignantly. 

“S’an important task,” lisped Naboo. “The most important, some might say. As such, the Head of the Shaman should do the honors.” 

The other shaman nodded solemnly, pulling on their acting chops to convince Dennis and therefore get out of the smelly job themselves. 

Finally, Dennis sighed. “Fine. If no other member of the Shaman Council will rise to the task, then I shall take on the responsibility of nappy duty.”

Naboo passed him the baby. He accepted her solemnly and made his way down the hall, Cassie squirming in his grasp the whole way to the nursery.

“That idiot’ll be elbows deep in half-alien-half-human shit and still be so far up his own arse that he’s grateful for it,” commented Saboo. 

“Whatever we do, we can never, not under any circumstances, let him know that changing shitty nappies is  _ not  _ the most important part of childcare,” Naboo added. The rest of the Shaman snickered their agreement.

The final curtain rose, and had it not been for the sound of applause rippling through the theater, Vince and Howard might have slept on. As it was, Howard jolted awake, joining in with the clapping even though he had  _ no  _ idea what they were applauding. Vince woke more slowly, opening one eye then the other and stretching like a cat before fully waking. The two men looked at each other. Howard looked mortified, but Vince’s eyes were full of laughter. 

“Guess we missed most of it,” he said. Howard nodded, looking ashamed. “Hey, don’t feel bad. What I saw of it was genius.” Vince rubbed a hand soothingly over Howard’s knee, trying to reassure him that their nap wasn’t his fault. “Would have happened anywhere, I think, if it was quiet and dark. We’re just tired, is all. New parents and all that.” 

Howard nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. We did kind of bollocks up date night, though.” 

“Well,” said Vince, the corner of his mouth pulling into a devious smile. “I feel a little more rested, and we still have dinner.” He rubbed his foot over Howard’s ankle and up his calf, pulling his lower lip seductively between his teeth as he did so.

Howard blushed a little, then grinned. “Suppose you’re right, love.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on the flat bridge of Vince’s nose. “C’mon, let’s get a cab.” 

Vince followed him out onto the street. The taxi rank was empty, and Vince leaned on Howard perhaps a bit more than he had to as they waited, but he was still a bit muzzy with sleep and Howard was warm and smelled good, like lavender and old books. 

Though it had been warm during the day, there was just enough chill in the air that Vince shivered. He had been too anxious to show off his new jumpsuit to bother with a jacket, and he thrilled when Howard wrapped his coat around the two of them as they waited for a cab. Their relationship was still new enough that Howard doing such a couple-y thing was still fresh and novel.

Vince was almost sad when a cab pulled into the rank--he had to wriggle out from under Howard’s jacket to get inside the car. Howard didn’t even tell Vince not to touch him when Vince snuggled against his side, burrowing under the wooly fabric even despite the fact that it was warm inside the cab.

“Still cold, little man?” Howard asked, his lips brushing up against Vince’s ear, making him shiver.

“Yeah,” Vince lied, forcing another shiver for effect. It had the desired effect--Howard slung an arm around Vince, pressing him close. Vince rested his forehead against Howard’s chest, breathing in the comforting scents of damp wool and Howard’s old-fashioned cologne while Howard authoritatively gave the cabbie directions to the restaurant where he’d made reservations. 

Once Howard was sure the cabbie knew where they were going, he leaned back against the leather seat, letting Vince slump against him. Vince could be clingy when he was feeling amorous, sleepy, or both, and Howard had discovered that he rather liked being clung to, when the clinger in question was Vince.

“Want to give the babysitter a call, check in on Cassie?” Howard asked.

Vince’s first impulse was to scoff and tease Howard for having separation anxiety, but in all honesty, he was missing Cassie too, just a little. “Just for a minute,” he agreed.

Howard removed his mobile from his pocket, flipping it open and calling Miranda’s number. It went to voicemail, twice. “Huh, that’s weird...” he mused.

“What’s wrong?” Vince asked. His forehead was creased with worry, his blue eyes wide with concern.

“Miranda’s not picking up her phone...” Howard mused. “Let me try the landline...”

The phone rang for nearly a minute before an answering voice lisped “Hullo...?”

“Naboo?” Howard asked. “What are you doing there?”

“I  _ live _ here, ballbag,” Naboo said. Howard could almost hear him sneering.

“Oh. Right,” Howard stuttered. “How, erm, are things?”

“Smashing,” Naboo deadpanned.

“And Cassie’s doing well? She and Miranda seem to be getting along?”

Howard thought he heard a crash and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tony Harrison crying  _ Outrage! _ in the background. Before he could inquire further, Naboo interrupted him. “Everything’s great here, yeah. We’re right as rain, we are.”

“In that case...” Howard said, just as another crash sounded over the microphone, “do you think I could talk to Miranda for a moment...?”

“Miranda can’t talk right now,” Naboo said.

“What?” Howard asked, panicking a bit.

“Well, it’s just she’s giving Cassie her bath; you know how much Cassie  _ loves _ bathtime...”

Howard grimaced. He wasn’t sure if it was her Uranian genes or human ones, but Cassie struggled and squalled and screamed during bathtime, so he knew what a trial poor Miranda must be facing. 

“Ah, yes. Well… as long as everything is okay there…”

“Everything’s fine. Perfect,” Naboo answered, perhaps a little too quickly. “Besides, you’re supposed to be out having a…  _ romantic  _ time,” he choked on the word, gagging a little. “Get off the phone and enjoy your evening.” 

“Yes. Okay, yes, we will. Cheers, Naboo.” With that Howard hung up.

“How’s Cassie?” Vince asked, his brows scrunched together in concern. “Getting on awright with the sitter?”

Howard slung an arm over Vince’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “Naboo says everything is just fine, love.” He pushed Vince’s bangs off his forehead before dropping a kiss on the crinkled skin of Vince’s brow, both men none the wiser about the small crisis Naboo was dealing with on the other end of the line. 

The situation Naboo was dealing with was this: some  _ idiot _ had parked the magic carpet at the window next to Cassie’s changing table. And said idiot had also managed to forget to close the window after him. 

Then, Dennis somehow avoided noticing that the window was wide open when he’d laid Cassie down to change her nappy. He’d used the last baby wipe, and had taken his eyes off Cassie for only a moment to grab another package.

And when Dennis turned to finish wiping baby Cassie’s bottom clean, baby Cassie was not on the changing table.

She wasn’t on the floor, hiding in her crib, or underneath the massive pile of stuffed animals in the corner of the nursery either.

It was only when Dennis had searched every corner of the nursery and found no baby that he caught a glimpse of the carpet outside the open window. And on that carpet was Cassie, bare-arsed and smiling cheekily.

It was not, as a general rule, advisable for babies or children to use the carpet without the supervision of a Shaman. In fact, babies and children were generally discouraged from using the magic carpet even  _ with _ the supervision of a shaman, considering the amount of drugs a shaman was likely to have in their system at all times.

Realizing what had happened, Dennis let out a very manly, dignified shriek of alarm, alerting the others.

Naboo was the first to tumble through the door. “What the hell happened here?”

Dennis could only point out the window. 

Naboo didn’t usually have any inflection at all in his speech, which made what he said next all the more terrifying. “I don’t even want to know how you managed to let the baby out the window and onto the carpet during a standard, normal nappy change,” Naboo grit out from between his teeth, clearly biting back a wave of fury, “but you had damned well better figure out how to get my goddaughter back inside unharmed or else I am going to decapitate you with your own sword, then bring you back to life, only to decapitate you with your own sword again for all eternity.”

Dennis had the good sense to at least look a little sheepish. And this is how five Shaman and a gorilla found themselves trying to coax a crawling baby back inside to safety from the magic carpet parked outside the window of a second-storey flat in Dalston where she’d found herself.

Saboo slow-clapped. “Well done, sire, you had  _ one  _ job, and you managed to bugger it up.” 

Saboo’s first instinct was to stick himself halfway out of the window and try to grab Cassie, but the little girl only grinned and crawled closer to the edge of the carpet. “Come here, you half-Uranian skelpie-limmer,” he growled, trying to reach for her but realizing that in doing so, he was only succeeding in chasing her closer to the carpet’s edge.

Meanwhile, Tony Harrison scuttled around the nursery floor in angry circles, swearing and professing his outrage at the ineptitude of his fellow magic men in child-rearing principles, as nobody had bothered to pick him up and bring him along to the windowsill, looking like a pink disembodied approximation of an old man pacing angrily. 

Dennis had disappeared to the kitchen but returned with a handful of blueberries, which he held out the window and waved about in front of Cassie. “Here, Cassie, Cassie,” he coaxed. “Come on, there’s a good human, come on, girl!” He even whistled, at which point Tony Harrison started punching the head Shaman’s ankles with his tentacles. This did not hurt, but it did get their attention. 

Naboo looked down. “What do you want, you pink testicular tentacled menace?”

Tony Harrison huffed. “Can  _ someone _ lift me onto the carpet?”

“Why would we do that?” griped Kirk, who was high on a cocktail of various drugs and not even sure what was happening.

“Because I have a  _ plan,” _ Tony Harrison insisted.

“Well,” Naboo asked, mostly because he was out of options, “what’s your plan?”

“Well,” began Tony Harrison in his nasally voice, “I  _ do  _ have a gift for strategy--”

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Saboo. “We all know you’re a unique thinker, get on with it.” 

“I thought you could lift me… onto the carpet, and I could move, with haste, to… distract Cassie, and then… lure her back inside, quickly. And safely. Strategically.” 

“That...” Dennis said, pausing a moment to make sure he had the right word, “is a very, very stupid plan.”

“That is a plan that only a tentacled bellend could come up with,” Kirk agreed.

“I agree,” Saboo chimed in. “It depends on a series of improbable events lining up perfectly in our favor with no margin for error.”

“It is settled, then,” Dennis proclaimed. “We shall not do the plan.”

Normally, in these situations, the shaman would immediately pause to go get high, then come back when their blood-to-drugs ratio was at more favorable level, one where they could think clearly. However, in this particular moment, even Naboo was beginning to worry that Vince and Howard might come home to a baby pancake instead of a baby alien.

“It is also,” Naboo grudgingly admitted, “the only plan we have.”

Try as they might, the shaman could not come up with a better one. At least not without drugs, and, as deranged as they might be, even the Shaman had enough sense to know not to leave the baby unattended on the carpet and go get high before they figured out how to save her.

“Very well,” acceded Dennis. “We will go ahead with the plan. But, Bollo, you must go down and wait beneath the carpet to catch Cassie if the plan fails.” 

“We will, of course, sacrifice you in cold blood if you don’t catch her,” Naboo warned. 

“Right,” said Bollo, muttering to himself about bad feelings as he descended the stairs. 

“Oh, what about me?” whined Tony Harrison. 

“May whatever gods you hold dear have mercy on your soul,” quipped Saboo, looking infinitely pleased at the idea of Tony Harrison falling to his death during the caper. 

Saboo perfunctorily hefted Tony Harrison onto the carpet whereupon he gave Cassie his most debonair smile. Cassie responded by clapping and shrieking “Nee Sun!”

“That’s right, you clever girl!” replied Tony Harrison. He waved a tentacle temptingly before her face. “C’mere, little one. If you crawl back with me, you can chew on these all night,” he coaxed. 

Cassie stared at him with her black eyes, as though processing the words. A bit of drool dropped from her lower lip to the carpet, which was met with a groan from all the Shaman inside. 

“C’mon, Cassie,” said Tony Harrison pleadingly. The baby giggled and started crawling towards the edge of the carpet again. Tony Harrison prayed that Bollo would remain quiet--it was obvious Cassie liked him best, much to the chagrin of the other Shaman, and he was terrified that if the gorilla made his presence on the street below known to her, she’d crawl right off. 

“Wait!” said Tony Harrison, grabbing onto a chubby ankle with the end of a tentacle. “Listen, Cassie.” 

The baby stopped crawling and plopped herself on her plump bottom. The Shaman inside sighed with relief. 

“If you come back with me, Tony Harrison,” Tony Harrison explained, pointing at himself, “I will teach you a naughty word.” 

Cassie’s black eyes lit up. “Nee Sun?”

“Yes,” he said, voice soft and as tempting as he could make it. “Tony Harrison. That’s me. Come on, love, crawl with me.” He scooted up next to Cassie and wrapped another tentacle around her wrist. “Let’s crawl this way, come on.” He started slowly crawling towards the window, utterly delighted that Cassie offered no resistance. 

“There’s Saboo with his big, stupid hat, let’s go get the feather,” he said, and Cassie replied happily with nonsense burbling. “And Naboo, we love Naboo, don’t we?”

“Boo!” replied Cassie, who was now crawling happily toward the Shaman and safety. 

“Almost there, come on,” coaxed Tony Harrison. As soon as they were within reach, Saboo reached out for Cassie and brought her back inside, a collective exhale of relief going up among the assembled. Dennis clapped because he was an idiot. 

Naboo grabbed Tony Harrison and held him up next to Cassie, who grabbed for him and pressed him into a hug. 

“Aww, this is warming the cockles of my heart!” keened Tony Harrison as he nuzzled into Cassie. 

“I never want to hear about your cockles again, you knob,” said Saboo. 

Tony Harrison didn’t reply. He whispered into Cassie’s ear, “The word of the day is  _ bollocks. _ ” 

“Well, everything’s fine over at the flat,” Howard reassured Vince as he tucked his mobile back into his jacket pocket. “Miranda is giving Cassie a bath, so I spoke with Naboo.” 

“Oh,” said Vince. His eyes had gone wide when Howard had spoken with Naboo, worry evident across his brow. His features relaxed a bit now. “That’s understandable. She does fuss during bathtime.” 

“Yes, she does,” chuckled Howard. 

“She gets that from you, you numpty,” said Vince as he snuggled back into Howard’s shoulder. Ordinarily, a comment like this would spark a small argument about Howard’s tenuous relationship with grooming and his proclivity for sadness showers, but Howard decided to let it go and enjoy his romantic evening with Vince instead, heeding Naboo’s advice for once.

What harm could it do to let go and trust the babysitter? Howard had faith in his thorough vetting process--there was no way the twenty-four point written exam could let Howard down now.

He slipped his hand into Vince’s as the cab crawled through the London traffic. A soft rain beat against the windows, counterpoint to their breath, and Howard was overwhelmed with affection for Vince. He almost started scatting, though, luckily, he managed to catch himself before he could risk triggering Vince’s allergies.

For his part, Vince was soaking up Howard’s casual touches. Though Howard had come a long way from shouting “Don’t touch me!”, it was all still novel enough that Vince couldn’t get enough of the little gestures of affection he’d so often taken for granted, like holding hands.

Holding hands with Howard felt so good. His hands were big and wide and strong, callused at the fingertips from playing guitar and bass and even, on occasion, mandoline, and the reminder of all the clever things Howard’s hands could do caused a rush of desire to pool between Vince’s legs. 

While Vince had initially been disappointed to discover that both he and Howard had slept through the play, now Vince was thankful that they’d had a chance to catch up on at least  _ some _ of the sleep they’d been missing in the six months since Cassie’s birth. Vince had some ideas of his own on how to burn up the energy from their impromptu nap...

He nuzzled Howard’s neck with his nose. Howard’s hand tightened around his own, and Vince grinned and dragged a kiss down Howard’s jaw.

“Easy, little man,” Howard whispered. “We’re almost there...”

“Right,” said Naboo with a level of authority he usually reserved for telling off his idiot tenants. “From now on, none of you rampallions touches Cassie except me, Bollo, and, regrettably, Tony Harrison.” 

Bollo grunted his agreement, Tony Harrison preened, and Dennis seemed relieved. In short, everyone was fine with this arrangement except Saboo, who, first of all, was never fine with anything, and secondly, was angered that he should be stricken from the list of acceptable caregivers. 

Of course, being Saboo, he had to make his opinions on this matter known, and loudly. “That you would trust that pink lump of deformity over me is... it’s... it’s an outrage!”

As soon as the offending words left his mouth, Saboo retched. His entire body seized and he spat, as though he was physically rejecting them.

The rest of the shaman looked appalled. 

“Dude,” Kirk said, “don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to spend less time with Tony Harrison.”

“You’ve gone wrong, Saboo,” Dennis warned.

“No, you’ve finally gone right!” cackled Tony Harrison, clapping his tentacles in glee. 

“Great,” Naboo groaned. “Now Saboo’s having an allergic reaction, and we  _ still _ haven’t managed to put the baby to bed. Just one more mishap...”

Ignoring Saboo’s distress, he hoisted Cassie onto his shoulder. She wriggled her bare bottom gleefully, and a strong smell assaulted Naboo’s nostrils. “Stinky baby, let’s get a nappy on you before you make another mess!” He sauntered off towards the nursery, throwing Bollo a meaningful look.

Bollo huffed--he knew what  _ that _ look meant; Naboo certainly didn’t have any intention of changing Cassie on his own--but, ultimately, Bollo surrendered to his role as Naboo’s familiar and followed. 

The cab ride was short, too short in Vince’s opinion, and when they arrived at the restaurant, he and Howard emerged, flushed and warm and both a bit more worked up than was entirely proper as they entered the dining establishment. As predicted, a table for two was set aside for them in a cozy corner, complete with candlelight. “Well romantic,” whispered Vince, his heart fluttering while Howard preened under the praise.

Vince and Howard  _ did  _ enjoy their meal--it had been ages since they’d eaten out in a restaurant together. And the knowledge that there would be no interruptions, no cleanup, and no stoned roommates (or, for that matter, said stoned roommates’ stoned friends) with the munchies trying to steal their food made it that much more delicious. 

Vince made a show of moaning softly after particularly delicious morsels, licking and sucking his utensils suggestively, but only so that Howard would see. Howard shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but didn’t ask Vince to stop, which only made Vince bolder. 

Howard considered trying to do something sexy, too, but decided he’d probably get seen by another customer and arrested for being a paedophile or a rapist, so he let the idea go and left the subtle art of seduction to Vince. Vince was so good at it, after all. 

While they waited for dessert, Howard felt the toe of a sparkly Chelsea boot begin slowly inching its way up his properly hosiered ankles, and met Vince’s eyes. His eyes were dark with mischief, pupils wide in longing, and Howard, again, surreptitiously adjusted himself beneath the table. 

“Stop,” he whispered, a smile betraying that he didn’t really mean it.

“I could stop,” said Vince, slowly dragging his foot up Howard’s leg. “But should I  _ really  _ stop?” He stroked the toe of his shoe along Howard’s inseam, dangerously close to his cock.

“Where’d you learn that?” asked Howard with a grin. 

“Some old zookeeper taught me,” said Vince, his voice husky with desire. He bit his lower lip as he teased Howard’s erection with the pointy tip of his boot, soft as a whisper. 

Howard almost choked on his own tongue. He was pretty sure his eyes were crossing, because when he glanced at Vince, there were two Vinces smiling back at him, looking far too amused by Howard’s sudden... discomfort. 

He was about to either scold Vince or drag him into the restroom for a quick shag while they waited for their dessert, but the moment was ruined by the inopportune reappearance of their waiter who smirked at Howard as he presented a beautiful croquembouche to the couple. Howard sat straight up in his seat, uncomfortably aware that his blissed-out expression and red face were betraying what Vince had been up to, while Vince’s eyes lit up as he beheld the tower of puff pastry and whispered, “Genius,” his face split into a megawatt grin like a child on Christmas morning.

The dessert looked decadent, but Howard found he had no appetite for it. He wanted  _ Vince.  _

Vince, however, was completely absorbed in consuming the tower of sugar before him, all thoughts of seducing Howard swept away by sweets. Luckily (or unluckily) for Howard, Vince was incapable of eating sweets teasingly. Instead, he became the archetypical kid in a candy shop, shoving greedy mouthfuls into his greedy mouth, so focused on consuming the croquembouche as quickly as possible that he hadn’t even noticed that his lip gloss was smudged. 

Howard felt a little put out by all this, but then stole a taste of the croquembouche, and decided that maybe all  _ that  _ could wait ’til the cab ride home. 

Back at the flat, Kirk was watching pedestrians on the street below trying to decide who he could mow down in an act of vehicular violence, Dennis sat on the sofa thinking about what he’d done, and Cassie, freshly changed and cleaned up, was dressed for bed and in her cot. She looked concerned, as though she anticipated her erstwhile caregivers to fuck up in some terrible, tragic way, and soon. Her little brow furrowed beneath her green curls and her eyes shifted from Naboo, to Bollo, to Saboo, to Tony Harrison, who was being cradled in Bollo’s long arms like a rugby ball. 

Naboo felt like she was judging him, judging  _ all _ of them, and he didn’t like it. It made him doubt himself, and Naboo was not used to doubting himself. In fact, Naboo wasn’t used to feeling much of anything (the drugs helped), and he certainly wasn’t going to let a 6-month-old half- _ human _ baby  _ shame _ him into anything...

“I am  _ exhausted, _ ” sighed Naboo. “Why’re human babies so much work?”

“You think  _ you’re  _ tired,” whined Tony Harrison. “I’m the one who had to rescue her from peril! Imagine how your little pets must feel, doing this day in and day out. What a drudge!” 

“We no give Cassie bath,” said Bollo. 

Naboo groaned. “She’ll be all right, we wiped her up when we did the nappies. Howard and Vince will never know.” 

“Vince knows,” grunted Bollo. “He can smell shampoo from mile away.” 

Naboo sagged visibly.

“Will it sleep without bathing?” asked Saboo wearily. 

“What are you doing here?” Naboo snapped, turning from the cot to face the interloper. Truth was, Naboo wasn’t entirely sure, his doubts intensifying when Cassie whined a little in response. 

“Vince have elaborate nighttime ritual with Cassie,” said Bollo knowingly. “Lots of hair care and powders. And lavender.” 

“So much lavender,” lisped Naboo, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hand. 

“Is it a lot of work to bathe a baby? She’s hardly bigger than a bean,” asked Saboo. 

Naboo heaved the heaviest world-weary sigh. “Get the basin, Saboo. Fill it with warm water and the lavender baby soap. Bollo, Tony Harrison, get her nighttime bottle ready.” 

Bollo nodded, still cradling Tony Harrison, whose nasal voice echoed down the hallway. “Don’t forget to support her head! Don’t get soap in her eyes! Keep her head above water--”

“Shut up, you pink hobby horse,” groaned Saboo as he and Naboo turned into the bathroom, preparing to give Cassie what was sure to be the worst bath of her life. 

Thirty minutes and one  _ minor _ flood later, Cassie was re-nappied, re-dressed in her pajamas, and babbling happily in her cot, smelling of lavender. She hugged her lumpy llama close and laid on her back, staring up at the exhausted Shaman looking down at her. Her stomach was full, she’d been cleaned, and now, she was ready for sleep. 

Except she  _ definitely _ was not sleeping.

Naboo checked again, just to be sure. Nope. She was still staring up at her magical godfathers, wide-eyed and curious.

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to remember what Vince and Howard did to get their stubborn little alien to sleep. When it got dark outside, they’d spend ages feeding and cleaning her and getting her ready for Dreamland. Then they would take turns singing to her, giving her kisses, and sometimes Vince would tell her stories about the jungle, while Howard would read books to her in his rich, baritone voice. 

As Naboo remembered, Cassie, as if sensing his distress, furrowed her brow and scrunched up her face as she prepared to cry about it. 

“Quick, Bollo, you’ve got long arms. Pick her up! Rock her!” Naboo whispered urgently.

Just as desperate as his shaman to avoid another crying fit, the familiar wasted no time in grabbing the baby and cradling her against his chest. Immediately, Cassie let out a little huff of relief and relaxed.

Unfortunately, Naboo did not relax when she did. Instead, he felt an even greater sense of urgency to get her to sleep without inadvertently triggering another crying fit. He was bone-tired and in desperate need of a good high (he never could quite think straight when he was sober)… Naboo wracked his brain trying to think of what Vince and Howard did at night. 

He closed his eyes, thinking of the nice, dank bud he had upstairs waiting to be smoked after this ordeal was all over. Like a lorry being driven by five drunken alien madman, the realization hit him. Naboo snapped his fingers and announced, “Sometimes, they  _ sing _ to her.” 

The Shaman let out a collective groan.

“Why? In what way can making noise and rocking her about like this  _ possibly  _ put her to sleep?” asked Saboo angrily. The absolute  _ illogic _ of the situation was making it difficult for him to control his temper.

“I don’t know!” said Naboo, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “I just know that’s sometimes what they do. She probably misses them, is all.” 

“Can’t we just drop her in the small bed and leave?” huffed Saboo. 

“ _ No, _ ” replied Naboo, his voice firm and deadly serious. “We’re the godfathers. It’s our solemn duty to see this through to the end.” 

“Godfathers? Which god granted us spiritual fatherhood to this mongrel babe? We don’t believe in god,” argued Saboo. 

Just as soon as Saboo finished speaking, Kirk and Dennis re-entered the nursery, having overheard their fellow shaman arguing in the nursery and deciding that their ban was lifted. Kirk chimed in, “We’re nihilists, Naboo.” 

Tony Harrison piped up, doing his best Marlon Brando impersonation. “It’s not about god. It’s about going against the  _ family,  _ Saboo…” 

“Are we doing  _ The Godfather _ again now?” Saboo gripes. “By all the deities old and new, are we going to have to listen to this cretin do piss-poor impressions of earth films?”

The Shaman began arguing amongst themselves over who was who in a hypothetical Mob hierarchy, at least until Cassie began to squirm in Bollo’s arms. She looked dangerously close to fussing, and Bollo clutched Cassie even closer to his chest, aggressively shushing his fellow shaman. “Quiet, ballbags! You going to rile Cassie up! It bedtime for baby, not time for shouting!”

“Stop arguing! Someone start singing,” commanded Naboo. 

Dennis started humming something from a popular musical but only got a few bars in before he was summarily hushed and escorted from the room, his ban reinstated. 

Kirk started next, his childlike voice high and clear as he sang a few lines. Naboo knew the song, but he couldn’t place it until Kirk got to the chorus. 

“No,  _ no,  _ absolutely not,” lisped Naboo, cutting Kirk off. “You’re not singing  _ The Thong Song  _ to a baby. Get out.” Kirk giggled deviously to himself, and also left. 

Bollo tried to sing, but gorillas are terrible vocalists, and Cassie nearly started to cry again. 

Saboo cut in with what he claimed was “some real music,” which turned out to be the aria from a Xooberanian opera that was entirely inappropriate for children. 

Naboo, who knew he wasn’t a good singer, was reluctant to try but his desperation to be freed from this horrible job won out. He started lisping, almost no differentiation between his singing and speaking voices. “I was gonna clean my room, but then I got high. I was gonna…  _ nah na na naah,  _ then I got high…” 

“Oh, and this is any better?” interrupted Saboo. “You can’t remember any of the words except ‘I got high,’ and you think  _ that’s  _ more appropriate than classical music? You sponge-brained plague sore.” 

“Awright,” said Naboo defensively, his brow furrowing. “I gave it a try.” 

Tony Harrison cleared his throat. “Oh right, is it my turn yet? Put me in the cot with her, will you?”

Saboo was happy to drop Tony Harrison into the very small bed for human babies alongside Cassie. She reached for him sleepily, and he happily scuttled up next to her, holding her chubby hand in a tentacle. He stared into her black eyes, grinning, and she sighed, “Nee-Sun.” He nodded, and started a low whispered version of “Beautiful Child” as her eyes slid shut ( _ Tusk  _ really was such a versatile album, regardless of what Saboo said). She was asleep before he hit the bridge. As soon as it was apparent that Tony Harrison had once again won the Game of Nappies, Naboo, Bollo, and Saboo excused themselves to the living room to wait out the rest of their vigil. Worn out from his night of child-rearing, Tony Harrison figured “what the hell” and covered up with a corner of soft pink blanket, and went to sleep. 

Howard could feel the cabbie’s eyes sliding back to watch them through the rearview mirror, and part of him felt embarrassed, but another part of him couldn’t be arsed to care. In the last few months, ever since awakening after somehow  _ magically  _ giving birth to a baby in a roomful of people, Howard found he was less shy and embarrassed than he had been before. Besides, Vince made him feel confident. And he was  _ proud  _ to be out with Vince, loved seeing the way people looked at him and knowing that Vince only had eyes for Howard. 

So he continued peppering kisses down Vince’s smooth white throat, his cock twitching every time Vince’s breath caught on a sigh. Then Vince whispered his name, his voice low and gravelly in the dark, and Howard moaned, the sound wrested from him involuntarily. He could feel the lecherous cabbie’s eyes on them, and anger flashed in his belly. He sat back, away from Vince and took a few breaths to clear his head and check his temper. 

“All right?” asked Vince, his hands sneaking their way into Howard’s curls. Howard nodded and gave a pointed look to the driver’s seat, watching as comprehension dawned on Vince’s face. A purely impish grin twisted Vince’s lips as he leaned over and whispered to Howard, “Should we give him a proper show, then?”

The thought was... tempting. But Howard shook his head. He might be a bit more comfortable in his own skin now than he was a year ago, but he was no exhibitionist. Besides, ever since Cassie’s birth, Vince and Howard’s sex life had mostly consisted of hurried handjobs and furtive quickies during naptime, and Howard was looking forward to an opportunity where the two men could take their time together for once...

Vince pouted, but kissed Howard’s cheek and settled into his own seat, his hand tightly entwined with Howard’s. “We’re almost home, anyway,” he said cheerfully and turned to look out the window, but not before Howard saw him stifle a yawn.

Howard smiled to himself. It was warm and dark in the backseat of the cab, Vince’s body a comfort as it pressed against his own, their bellies full and minds empty, swaying gently as the cab rumbled along the dark familiar streets… Howard yawned, too. Vince caught him and they both laughed softly-- _ parenthood.  _

Howard thought that if he leaned his head against the cool window and shut his eyes, he could fall asleep. But the promise of a mindblowing bumming when they got home was something he was quite keen on, and the thought kept him awake.

Vince followed Howard up the stairs, sneaking occasional gropes of Howard’s bum through the fine-gauge corduroy of his trousers. The material was still a crime against fashion, but at least Howard now consented to having his clothing tailored properly. Vince had to admit that Howard’s pumpkin arse was fine enough to make even  _ corduroys _ look appealing.

Howard must have been feeling just as pent-up from that cab ride as Vince himself, because he didn’t even try to scold Vince for his wandering hands as they made their way up the stairs to the flat.

The two men stepped into the living room, both equally surprised to find no sign of Miranda. Instead, the entire Shaman Council, minus Tony Harrison, was sitting in the living room, watching television. Even more surprising than that was the fact that Naboo’s hookah was not smoldering fragrantly between them. In fact, there were no drugs, nor any obvious paraphernalia, anywhere in sight.

The scene caused Howard to feel an immediate and overwhelming sense of suspicion. He had never seen the Shaman sober (minus that one time they had needed to abstain from all substances in order to exorcise the ghoul from the attic, but that had been a particularly extenuating circumstance), and the lack of any drugs, pipes, or visible signs of intoxication disturbed him.

“Where is Miranda?” Howard asked with forced casualness. “Is she in with the baby?” His forced casualness evaporated as the idea that something terrible could have happened to Cassie occurred to him.

“Oh, I’m fine, Howard, thank you so much for asking,” snarked Saboo, ignoring the question. His fellow shaman, minus Tony Harrison, sniggered. 

Vince grinned politely beside him, but Howard knew Vince well enough to see the thinly veiled panic in his eyes. “Everything all right, Naboo?” asked Vince. 

“All right, Vince,” replied Naboo. 

“Is Miranda with Cassie?” he asked, before following immediately with, “Where’s Tony Harrison?” Vince looked down at the floor nervously, as though he expected the pink shaman to be crawling around like an unwanted insect in the flat. 

“Miranda relieved herself of her duties not long after you left,” said Dennis grandly.

“What?” asked Howard, the horror evident in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Naboo said. “She had to go to an emergency, uh, Bible Study meeting.”

Saboo spoke up. “Not wanting to infringe upon her legally-protected right to religious freedom,” he sneered, “we offered her assistance, so she would not need to choose between ensuring that her mortal soul would ascend to Heaven and watching your spawn while you two cretins were derelict from your duties as parents.”

The other Shaman nodded seriously as he spoke. Howard was pretty confused by everything Saboo had just said, but he didn’t want to risk looking any stupider than he had already by admitting that he had absolutely no idea what the shaman had been talking about, so he responded by becoming indignant instead. “So you decide to take it upon yourself to decide what’s best for  _ our  _ daughter, deliberately disregarding our wishes, and then  _ lying  _ to us about it?”

“I don’t know, Howard,” Vince said, putting a hand on Howard’s forearm to still his wild gesticulations (Howard did tend to use a lot of hand motions when he was being self-righteous), “I’m not so sure it’s as bad as all that...” He gave Howard a hopeful smile. “Let’s go check on our daughter, yeah?”

Naboo shot Saboo a look, who then shot it to Dennis, who tried to shoot it to Kirk but he was too far gone along the astral plane to notice. “Wait,” said Naboo, standing. “She, erm. She just fell asleep, don’t want to wake her.” 

“Nonsense,” replied Howard. “We can put her back to sleep if she wakes.”

“It smells in there,” added Saboo. “Very bad. Very… smelly.”

“You didn’t change her?” Vince asked with a scold in his voice. He turned to Howard. “Come on, we’d better go check.” 

“Wait!” cried Dennis. 

“Stop, whatever this is,  _ stop,”  _ said Howard, working himself into a lather as he pushed through the wall of shaman blocking the door to the nursery. “We are  _ going  _ to see our daughter, and none of you can stop us. Whatever horrible thing you’ve done… we’ll find out about it.” 

Vince shot the shaman a withering glare. The mere thought of the possible horrors that could have befallen Cassie while under the care of several drug-addicted magical man from outer space was making him feel faint, and Vince clutched Howard’s arm to steady himself as they approached the cot.

Inwardly, Howard was trembling, though outwardly, he was doing his best impression of a Man of Action, calm, cool, and collected, even in the face of the very real possibility that his daughter, the precious being he had nurtured and protected within him for forty-two weeks, had been  _ damaged _ or injured by her time in Naboo’s care. Together, he and Vince drew closer to the cot, until they stood beside it. The two men turned to each other, exchanged a meaningful look, nodded, drew a deep breath, and then looked down into the cot at the exact same moment.

Their daughter lay there, sleeping peacefully on her side, a lock of green hair curled on her forehead, cuddled beneath the soft pink cashmere blanket that Vince had insisted they buy when the first payment from the Uranians had arrived. A sniff revealed that she had been bathed, changed, and properly powdered before bed.

“Huh,” Howard considered. Was it possible that the shaman had managed to properly care for Cassie after Miranda’s untimely Bible study session? The very thought was making his head swim in a way that made Howard wonder if he’d accidentally drunk alcohol sometime during the evening...

Vince let out a sigh of relief. “See, Howard? Told ya. Cassie’s right as rain.”

“Of course she is,” Dennis said. “We members of the Shaman Council take our godfatherly duties seriously.”

“It take village to raise child,” Bollo said sagely. The rest of the Shaman nodded in agreement. 

It was all so normal that Howard was confused by its normalcy. “Well done, Naboo,” he said grudgingly, reaching to remove the pink dummy clutched in Cassie’s chubby little hand.

The shaman lurched forward, but before they could intervene, Howard’s hand closed around the tip of one of Tony Harrison’s tentacles.

Howard screamed as the tentacle that Cassie had been holding clutching squirmed to life in his hand. “Oh, my God!” Vince cried out, voice full of despair as he ripped the blanket out of the cot to expose a drowsy-looking Tony Harrison curled up next to his precious daughter. Both Tony Harrison and Cassie blinked awake. 

Vince felt nauseous, and worried he might be sick as Howard grabbed Tony Harrison and chucked him like a rugby ball across the room. “GET THAT PINK PERVERT OUT OF MY DAUGHTER’S COT!” he roared, amid Cassie’s whimpers and Tony Harrison’s outcry of “an outrage!”

Vince dove to grab Cassie and hold her close, feeling for any obvious signs of damage. She was full-on wailing by this point, after having such a rude awakening, but his inspection revealed nothing alarming: her onesie was clean, her nappy fresh, and she smelled of soap and powder. 

Naboo entered the room,  _ almost  _ smiling at the unfortunate circumstance in which Tony Harrison’s had found himself. Saboo pushed passed him with an “Oi!” at Vince and Howard, and scooped up the tentacled mass from the floor. “Look what you did, you could’ve killed him!” he scolded. 

“He’ll wish for something sweet as death by the time I’m finished with him,” Howard growled, baring his teeth and clenching his fists. 

“Oh, that’s lovely,” groused Saboo. “After everything Tony Harrison has done for your pitiable offspring tonight, you go and throw him on the ground.” Saboo started slow clapping. “Well done, Howard Moon. A stellar example of earth’s finest.” 

Vince’s knees felt weak, so he sat on the rocker, still trying to get Cassie to stop crying. “What do you mean?” he asked Saboo. “What’s he done to her?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Saboo, inspecting his fingernails nonchalantly. “Unless you count ‘being the best damn caregiver in this flat lo these many hours’ as ‘nothing.’” 

“What?” asked Howard, the rage in his eyes giving way to confusion.

“That’s right,” lisped Naboo. “Tony Harrison’s the only one who can get her to stop crying, and he knew how to bathe her, and sang her a lullaby, and he saved her from--”

“Boredom,” interrupted Saboo with a cutting glare at Naboo. 

“Right,” said Naboo, grateful he hadn’t outed the near-killing of Cassie on the carpet. “Boredom.” 

Cassie inhaled shakily and in her whining toddler voice cried, “Nee-Sun!!!” 

Vince felt he might faint for sure, now. This was a disgusting and unwanted development. Tony Harrison absolutely made his skin crawl, not least of all because he sort of thought they looked alike. How could his daughter,  _ his  _ daughter, possibly  _ love  _ that popper-abusing, perverted mass of tentacles?

“Oooohhh, me head,” groaned Tony Harrison. “You utter pillock. If I were a younger man, I’d take you on!” he yelled at Howard. 

“Did… did you  _ really  _ do all that for Cassie?” Howard asked, confusion, anger, regret, and denial all vying for emotional dominance. 

“Why’s that so hard to believe?” asked Tony Harrison. “My  _ word,  _ you are a stuffy pair of prunes. I happen to be very good with children. I see eye-to-eye with them,” he said, making a weird gesture with his tentacles towards his eyes. “And as far as I can see, she’s crying harder  _ now  _ than the entire time you two were gone.” 

Vince looked ashamed even though he’d done nothing wrong. He pried Cassie from his shoulder and turned her around to see Tony Harrison. 

Her eyes caught the pink mass in Saboo’s arms and she reached out for him. Saboo carried Tony Harrison over to the rocking chair, where Cassie quickly grabbed a tentacle and started chewing on it. Both Vince and Howard reacted with loud, effusive disgust, but Tony Harrison just grinned up at them. 

“At least your offspring’s got good taste, even if I can’t say the same for her parents,” he keened, and patted Cassie’s head with a free tentacle. 

“Nee-Sun,” babbled Cassie in agreement. 

Howard rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I think you all should go,” he said wearily. “Vince and I need to rethink a  _ lot  _ of basic principles.” 

“Thank you for looking out for Cassie after Miranda had to leave,” Vince said, knowing gratitude was in order but begrudging it slightly. “Who knows, maybe next time  _ you _ can be the sitter, Naboolio.”

Naboo cringed. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Too much work,” Dennis chimed in.

“That’s the thing about babies,” Kirk added, “you can’t give them drugs to make them stop crying.”

“What are you lot on about? It’s not that hard, taking care of a nipper,” Tony Harrison mused, “you just have to get down to their level, see the world from their eyes--”

“Well,” interrupted Saboo, “obviously it’s easy for you to get down to her level. You don’t even have any  _ legs _ . But what are you going to do when she starts growing? Follow her around on  _ stilts _ ?”

“How dare you, I’m quite good at stilts.” 

“As if you are, you’ve never even seen stilts, you canker.” 

As the two devolved into a pointless argument, Vince and Howard refocused their attention on Cassie, whose eyes were drooping heavily. 

Eventually, Howard cleared his throat. “Cassie needs to go to sleep now, so if you could please…” He gestured towards the door of the nursery, hoping they’d take the hint and  _ leave.  _

Naboo hoisted open the nursery window, crawling over the changing table to exit the room onto the carpet, which was still parked outside. “C’mon, ballbags, let’s get out of here before they start getting randy with each other,” he called over his shoulder.

“Bollo  _ not _ want to hear that again,” Bollo said, following his shaman’s lead and crawling out the window.

“Ah, but  _ Kirk _ does,” Kirk said, making no move to join his fellow shaman on their magical carpet.

“Kirk, only a real degenerate pervs by himself. Allow me to join you,” added Tony Harrison, completely negating all the good he’d done all evening by being the best babysitter. Saboo bodily ushered both Shaman out the window and onto the carpet outside.

“Should we be worried that they left the carpet parked outside the nursery all night long?” Vince asked, his forehead scrunched with concern. 

“No, I’m sure it was fine. They’re professionals,” replied Howard, who had forgotten he was randy until Naboo had mentioned it and now found he was unable to forget. “Besides, Cassie’s bedroom overlooks the alley; it’s probably the least conspicuous place to park a flying carpet. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to complain, now, would we?”

Vince looked unconvinced. 

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some safety barriers for the windows,” Howard mused aloud in an attempt to allay Vince’s fears.

Outside, on the carpet, the shaman exchanged a conspiratorial look. Naboo ducked his head through the window to say, “Maybe you should stop by the DIY store tomorrow, yeah? Save the receipts, I’ll reimburse you on the rent...” Then he slammed the window shut behind him, and the carpet sailed off into the night, headed for galaxies unknown, carrying the entire Shaman Council along with it.

“Huh, that was weird,” Vince mused. “Naboo  _ never _ does any work on the flat, and he always makes  _ us _ pay for any maintenance...”

Howard hoisted Cassie back into her cot, pulling the soft pink blanket over her small body. “You never know. Maybe having a baby in the house is making Naboo into a more responsible... uh... person.”

Vince bussed a kiss to Cassie’s forehead, smoothing a lock of her soft green hair behind her tiny ear. “You never know,” he agreed. After all, Cassie had made both he and Howard into better people, why not Naboo?

Howard slung an arm over his shoulder, humming a lullaby that Vince recognized. He began to sing along in a soft voice, “Hushabye, don’t you cry, go to sleepy little baby...”

Cassie closed her eyes, lulled to sleep by the sound of her fathers’ voices harmonizing together. It wasn’t long before she was snoring softly. “Goodnight, little one,” Howard murmured softly, gazing down at his daughter and once again humbled by the immensity of the love he felt for such a tiny creature. “Your daddy loves you.”

“And your papa too,” Vince added. He gazed up at Howard, and Howard was struck anew by the depth of his love for Vince, as well as a sudden wave of lust.

“Time for us to get to bed too, little man,” Howard breathed.

Vince’s pupils went wide, and be caught his lower lip between his teeth, teasing it a bit before smiling deviously at Howard. “You gonna sing me a lullaby too, Howard?”

“Depends,” Howard said with a smile of his own, “on how hard you fuck me, doesn’t it?”

With a grin, Vince squeezed Howard’s arse, and the two men tiptoed out of the nursery, careful not to disturb the sleeping Cassie in their rush to put themselves to bed. Not that they had any intention of going to sleep, at least not yet...

As soon as they made it to the bedroom, Vince playfully pushed Howard onto the bed, grinning when Howard propped himself against the pillows to watch Vince with that predatory look he got when he was  _ really _ on the horn.

Preening a bit under Howard’s gaze, Vince sat down at the edge of the bed, his back to Howard, and tilted his head down coquettishly. “Unzip me, Howard,” he breathed.

Howard lifted a hand to the nape of Vince’s neck. He brushed Vince’s hair aside, careful not to accidentally catch it in the zipper of the jumpsuit as he pulled it down to expose the pale skin of Vince’s back.

Just as he was about to lean over and press a kiss to the newly-revealed expanse of skin, Vince pushed him back into the pillows. “Watch me,” he whispered, no less of a command despite the softness of his voice. With that, Vince stood, peeling his jumpsuit off slowly, teasingly, as Howard watched. 

Or rather,  _ tried  _ to watch. As soon as Howard’s head hit the pillow, he was reminded that he hadn’t gotten more than three consecutive hours of sleep since before Cassie had been born. He  _ yearned  _ for the luxury of 7-8 hours of uninterrupted, comfortable, lovely sleep…

Howard blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to keep himself from drifting off just as his date with Vince had begun to get interesting.

“You’re watching, right, Howard?” Vince asked, hiding a yawn into his shoulder as he bent down to remove his platforms and pull the jumpsuit off his feet.

Luckily, Howard had managed to blink himself awake in time to catch a glimpse of Vince’s round, white arse in one of the little pairs of pants he favored. “‘’M watching,” he mumbled, forcing himself upright. Even as he swallowed a groan from the effort of moving, his cock pulsed to life between his legs, reminding him that it had been a few days since he and Vince had had a chance to get off. 

“Good,” Vince breathed as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure. Howard’s tiny eyes were on him, but they were half-closed, two small, dark slits beneath his brow; he looked relaxed, sprawled bonelessly against the pillows in a way that made Vince want to cuddle up to him and stroke him like a spoiled kitten.

He made his way over to the bed, nudging Howard to move over and make room (even though they’d sprung for a king size, Howard still somehow managed to take up the whole mattress). Howard obliged, reaching up to pull Vince against him and burying his nose in Vince’s hair. Vince smelled like strawberries and hairspray and all things that are good, and Howard took a deep huff, his lips curling up into a smile as Vince let out a rumbled sound of satisfaction.

Vince leaned back, putting space between their chests, and Howard let out a needy sound. “Shhh,” Vince soothed as he brought his hands to Howard’s chest, his fingers nimbly undoing the button at Howard’s collar. He smoothed the fabric as he made quick work of the rest of the buttons, then reached for Howard’s hands to undo the cuffs, taking a moment to press a kiss into Howard’s palm before pushing the shirt off of his lover’s shoulders.

He took a moment to admire the broadness of Howard’s shoulders and the fullness of his bosom before Howard bucked his hips, pressing the heat of his erection against Vince’s thigh. Vince’s cock began to throb in his little pants, and he trailed a hand between Howard’s breasts, which were still swollen with milk, down his softly-furred stomach until the hair began to coarsen just above the waistband of Howard’s corduroys, then further still to cup around the bulge between Howard’s legs.

Howard’s eyes slipped shut and a sigh of pleasure escaped his parted lips. He didn’t even try to open them, content to allow himself the simple luxury of  _ being, _ to feel and enjoy Vince’s adoring touches. He was utterly relaxed and at peace, the sheets soft and clean beneath him, Vince’s weight a comfort atop his prone form. Hazily, he wondered if he could fall asleep like this… 

Then Vince’s hands were on his hips, urging Howard to lift his arse up as he tugged Howard’s cords down his thighs. Howard pried his eyes open, and Vince was looking back at him, his blue eyes heavy and half-lidded. The tip of his tongue stole between his parted lips as he pulled Howard’s trousers and pants off. 

Howard, now naked, shivered, and Vince gathered him in his arms, snuggling up next to him and pulling the duvet up to cover them. Howard let out a small sound of contentment, and wiggled his arse against Vince’s cock, which felt thick and warm through the cotton of Vince’s tiny pants.

He reached back and shoved a hand beneath Vince’s tight waistband to pull at his cock. The sudden contact made Vince thrust into his hand, and Howard gripped him tighter; the little moan Vince let out made Howard gasp with want.

“Get the lube,” Howard breathed, “get me wet,” and Vince whined and reached blindly into the drawer of the night-table, just as keen to be inside Howard as Howard was to have Vince inside him. He managed to grab the tube by instinct, squeezing a generous dollop onto his fingers as Howard lifted his knee to his chest.

Vince pressed open-mouthed kisses to the back of Howard’s neck as he trailed his fingers down Howard’s crack, feeling for the wrinkled furl of his hole. The textured skin tensed as Vince’s wet fingers rubbed it; he massaged it softly for a moment, waiting for Howard to relax before pressing his index and middle finger inside.

There was a moment of resistance, and Vince was considering just using one finger when Howard’s body yielded, both of Vince’s fingers slipping into that tight heat. Howard let out a soft sigh as Vince began to stretch him. With his eyes closed, he could feel every flutter of Vince’s fingers as they rubbed and twisted and scissored inside him.

The feeling was overwhelming, and Howard buried his face in the soft, fluffy pillow, giving himself over to the sensations. “More, Vince, please... l want to be close to you,” he moaned, the pillow muffling his pleas.

Usually Vince liked to take his time to finger Howard open, especially when they hadn’t done this for a while, but Howard urged him on, urged him  _ closer _ .... Vince searched the sheets for the lube, then slicked his cock, rubbing a bit of extra lube on Howard’s rim before positioning himself, and pushing in.

Vince worked himself inside, inch by inch, feeling the way Howard’s insides stretched around him. It never failed to amaze him, the way that Howard’s body yielded to accommodate him, and he drew it out as long as he could stand until he was as deep inside Howard as he could get.

He moved a hand to Howard’s hip for leverage, then rocked his hips back, pausing a moment as Howard’s rim sucked at the head of his prick before plunging forward. Howard let out a soft sigh and pushed his arse back, letting Vince in just a little bit deeper than before...

They settled into a gentle rhythm, their bodies rocking softly together, the heat building between them trapped beneath the heavy duvet. Vince tried to keep the rhythm of his thrusts consistent, but the warmth and softness of the sheets was making him drowsy. His thrusts grew shorter and slower, lazier; at first, Howard would buck against him, whining impatiently for more, but soon, Howard relaxed, his hips growing still, his breathing deeper, as Vince continued to rock lazily inside him.

“Feels nice. Warm and good,” Howard mumbled into the pillow. It took a great effort to speak; he was so warm and comfortable that he could feel his mind moving more slowly, becoming more as he slipped into that place between wakefulness and sleep. Vince’s slow, lazy thrusts felt more comforting than arousing, and Howard basked in the softness of the bed beneath him and the warmth of Vince’s skin against his own, not even bothering to touch himself or try to get off, just concentrating on the feeling having Vince so close. 

Vince nuzzled his face into the nape of Howard’s neck, the scent of his warm, salty skin lulling him deeper into sleepiness. He yawned against Howard’s skin, relishing the closeness and the way their breaths matched languorous paces. Vince could feel himself growing soft inside Howard and felt vaguely bad about it, until he realized Howard was dozing beneath him.

Howard was dragged back to consciousness by a voice asking, “Howard? Howard? Hey, Howard?”

Howard blinked a few times before Vince’s face came into focus. He was looking down at Howard with concern. “Mrpf?” 

“Did you just... fall asleep?” Vince asked.

“Mmmhmm,” Howard murmured. “Was just a little sleepy...”

Vince moved to pull out, but was stopped when Howard gripped his hip, holding him in place.

“Mmm, don’t go,” Howard whined.

“I’m tired too,” Vince admitted, but the hand on his hip only gripped tighter.

“’S’nice, having you close like this.” Howard leaned back to suck a lazy kiss onto Vince’s neck. “You don’t have to do anything, just... Stay.” Even as he said it, the idea of holding Vince inside of him all night made him shiver. Knowing that he’d wake up with Vince as close as he could be made Howard feel almost protective of him--while Vince was smaller and shorter than Howard, he was also quite a bit scrappier, which meant that Vince was usually the one who came to Howard’s defense. Perhaps Howard couldn’t rush to Vince’s defense on the streets, but when they were between the sheets, Howard was certain he’d be able to take care of Vince.

Vince snuggled as close to Howard as he could get, draping one arm across the swell of Howard’s chest. His breasts hung heavy and full, a comforting weight against Vince’s forearm, and his cock pulsed gently inside Howard’s arse.

“Sorry I fell asleep and ruined our first date,” Howard mumbled sleepily.

Their date had gone pretty well, considering the fact that Howard had changed their plans without asking, they’d slept through the entire play, and their daughter’s carefully-chosen babysitter had fucked off and left the Shaman Council in charge of Cassie’s health and well-being. Not only that, after the excitement of their night out, he and Howard had been too exhausted for a proper shag. 

“S’alright,” Vince said, resting his head against Howard’s shoulder. And it  _ was  _ all right. The date might not have been the picture perfect evening of Vince’s imaginings, but it was a fun night spent with his favorite person (well, except for Cassie, of course). He smiled to himself, knowing they’d laugh about it in a few days, and couldn’t believe how lucky he was that there would be a next time to try again. His voice came out all muzzled, as his mouth and nose were smushed against Howard’s skin, but Vince was too comfortable to move. “It was  _ perfect _ .”

It was difficult, at first, to hold himself still; it was different, Vince mused, to be joined to Howard like this even as his erection softened. Howard felt no less warm inside, but as the need to come faded, Vince found that he could concentrate on the way their breath synchronized, the way their bodies fit against each other, filling in all the empty spaces. He felt warm, and comfortable, and  _ safe _ , a novel feeling since he was the  _ big _ spoon, which usually made him want to keep  _ Howard _ warm and comfortable and safe.

Howard nuzzled into his pillow and mumbled something that sounded like “Mrflap oo, Wince”, but Vince, who had years of experience in translating Howard, knew what he’d meant to say had been, “Love you, Vince.” 

Once he’d gotten over his hangups, Howard had become much more liberal with his words of affection, and while it wasn’t rare for Howard to remind Vince that he was in love with him, Vince knew that he would never grow tired of hearing it. Warmth and contentment flooded Vince as he whispered back sleepily, “Love you too, you berk.” 

He draped a hand over Howard’s belly, buried his face in the wayward curls at the back of Howard’s neck. The warmth of Howard’s body close to his made Vince’s eyelids grow heavy, and he let himself be lulled to sleep by the soft, even rhythm of Howard’s breath and the promise of a shared dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, we’ve hit our sweet spot, which is 15k one-shots that are basically Boosh episodes + porn....
> 
> Fun fact: the name of the restaurant Vince and Howard go to on their date (Faisons L'Andouille) is a French idiom that means "doing something ridiculous". Literally translated, it means "make sausage", which then becomes a pervy pun in English ;)


End file.
